


Why Phil Coulson Doesn't Trust Stark Tech

by ThePenguinOfDeath



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (In that Phil never pretends to die and stays with the Avengers), Acrobatics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crime Fighting, Dubious Science, Flying, Giant orange slime monster of doom, M/M, Science Experiments, Tony Stark's Inventions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4093861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePenguinOfDeath/pseuds/ThePenguinOfDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye ends up with a new accessory thanks to Tony Stark - and he's going to give Phil Coulson a heart attack before his next birthday. (aka Clint is reckless and Phil worries).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Phil Coulson Doesn't Trust Stark Tech

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I wanted inspiration for something to write, and I ended up on the ‘A Writing Prompt A Day’ blog on Tumblr. You are literally a godsend, so if whoever runs that ever reads this, thank you so much. Today’s prompt was ‘Hellish Sneakers’, which is lovely and vague just like all the best writing prompts. I enjoyed writing this.

“Hawkeye.” Coulson’s voice crackled over the comms. “Are you in position?”

“Almost, Agent. Just give me another twenty seconds. I have to say, Stark, I’m impressed with the grip on these things.”

Clint sounded normal, if slightly out of breath from exertion, but Coulson frowned at the words. He hadn’t been told about any new invention of Stark’s – he was quite concerned if Barton and Stark had been conspiring. That sounded like a dangerous combination.

“Of course you are, those were top of the line even before I made the modifications. I guarantee you’ll never do a mission without them again.” Stark sounded smug.

“Alright, Agent, I’m in position. I count three – no, four hostiles, plus whatever the hell that orange thing is.”

“Snipers?”

“Negative, just ordinary guard thugs. No sign of the Man In Charge, but then there never is at this stage. Want me to take them out?”

“Also negative. Widow, Captain, you’re up. Recon only. I want a closer look at that ‘orange thing’ as Hawkeye so eloquently put it.”

“Roger that.” Steve responded.

For a moment, silence fell over the comms. Coulson carefully switched to one of the private channels.

“Hawkeye?”

“Yes sir?”

“Can I ask what additional piece of equipment Iron Man has provided you with?”

A tinny chuckle resonated out of the speaker. “I was complaining the other day about how someone always needed to catch me whenever one of the guys we were fighting blew up my hiding spot. It’s been happening more frequently. Stark took the liberty of designing me some flying sneakers.”

Coulson took a moment to let the words sink in, a headache starting to brew around his temples.

“Flying sneakers?”

“Yup. They’re actually pretty funky. Black, obviously, but the sides light up in purple when they’re activated. I think the grip’s better than my field shoes actually, even though there are repulsor thingamajigs in the soles.”

Coulson narrowly resisted the urge to slam his head into a wall. “Have you actually tested them yet?”

“Nahh, no time. This sounded like an easy op so I figured it could act as a test run. Full marks so far. But they’re based on Iron Man’s repulsors and those are well tested by Stark, so I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Chill. How’re Widow and Cap doing?”

Reluctantly, Coulson switched back to the main channel. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach about these shoes – the last piece of untested Stark tech in the field hadn’t been pretty.

 

/

 

“Widow, go left. Left! Captain, there’s a group of civilians stuck in an elevator on 43rd. Two hundred yards from your location. Hawkeye, have you got a shot?”

“On what? That stuff’s fucking everywhere, sir. I’m not sure it’s even properly alive.”

Coulson resisted the urge to spit out twenty uncharacteristic swear words, reciting gun names in his head to keep calm. His poker face was clearly rusty – one of the junior agents in the helicarrier kept shooting him looks.

“Any of it. Just see if you can take it down.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Coulson glanced back at the screen, just in time to see a Clint-shaped object cartwheel in the air straight through the 23rd-storey window of a nearby apartment building.

“Fuck, Stark this flying lark isn’t as easy as it looks. I can see why you have extra thingies on your palms.”

“Aww, can the ickle Hawk not fly? Thor, I’ve just sent a blob your way, mind seeing if electrocution works?”

Coulson’s heart rate slowed slightly as Clint momentarily steadied himself, firing an arrow into one orange blob – it let out an almighty squelch before promptly spitting the arrow back out again. He allowed himself to breath, before feeling another shot of panic as Clint tried to turn and sent himself into some kind of rapid spin.

“The creature is weak to lightning! It cannot withstand the power of the almighty Thor!”

Coulson tore his eyes away from the image of Clint, focusing on Thor’s words. “Thor, go and help the Captain. I doubt his abilities will be terribly useful against this either. Widow, does your Widow’s Sting affect them?”

“Positive – but it only slows them down. Requesting backup?”

“Negative, sorry – the suit’s got an electrocution beam but it’s charging, and I’m a bit hemmed in at the moment. Hawkeye?” Stark sounded out of breath.

Glancing back at the screen, Coulson noticed that Clint had managed to get back to the apartment building and had perched himself precariously on a windowsill, surrounded by broken glass.

“Normal arrows don’t work, and the EMP ones only slow it down. I’ll try and get to you. Location?”

“Head east.” Coulson supplied. “And don’t break your neck.”

“No promises. I think we might need to work on a balancer, Stark.”

There was no response, and Coulson quickly clicked through the screens to find Tony. It was unusual for him not to have a comeback. Unfortunately, at that moment, all the cameras whited out.

“Avengers? Come in?”

“Comms are down.” One of the junior agents supplied. “So are cameras.”

“Alright. Who’s the closest team to them?”

“Sitwell’s. Ten minutes away.”

“Get a message to them. I need visual on the Avengers until comms come back online.”

“Yes sir.”

Coulson sat back and hoped none of his team had done anything stupid. Unfortunately, given that it was the Avengers, that seemed like a slightly overoptimistic expectation.

 

/

 

Five hours later, Coulson walked into the Avengers Tower to find Hawkeye lying on his back, his feet in Thor and Steve’s hands. It wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever walked in on – and none of them seemed hurt – but it was a little bizarre.

“Rogers? Barton? Thor?”

“Agent Coulson! We achieved a great victory over the orange slime monster! Unfortunately, we are losing the battle with Clint’s shoes.”

Coulson’s eyes flickered to Clint’s.

“They were actually damn useful in the battle, although I was at a serious disadvantage without hand stabilisers. Haven’t needed to use my acrobatics training like that in years. Unfortunately, Stark neglected to tell me how to take them off before he buggered off down to the lab to see Bruce.”

“They are... surprisingly resistant for such an ordinary looking pair of sneakers.” Steve confessed.

Finally, Coulson took a glance at the fabled sneakers.

They were both very Stark and very Clint. Flashy – shiny black material with, as promised, glowing purple lights down the side – topped off with durable black laces. The laces, however, appeared more fashionable than functional, as the sneakers actually appeared to be sealed by a strong strap around the foot and ankle.

“Finerprint activated?” He guessed.

Clint shook his head straight away. “I’ve tried that. Pulling, pushing, shaking, kicking the wall – no good. I couldn’t cut them off with a knife either. I dont’ know what Stark made them out of but when he claimed they were originally normal sneakers he was lying. Bastard. I’ll get him back for this. Disable the filtration system in his suit and then keep him in there until he pisses himself.”

“May I?” Coulson chose to ignore the threat – for Clint, it was actually fairly kind.

“Knock yourself out.”

Carefully, so as to not crease his suit, Coulson knelt down and took a closer look at the sneakers.

The soles had, as promised, a large repulsor in the middle, surrounded by raised sole than probably housed wires of some kind. Coulson wasn’t an electrician – he had a Law degree, not a science one – but it did appear to be very neatly done. There wasn’t anything that appeared to hold the strap in place, but thinking like Stark, he managed to make a half-decent guess.

“Electromagnetism?”

“His shoes are magnetic?” Steve looked confused.

Clint wrinkled his nose. “Maybe. Seems a bit over the top but this is Stark. So, how do I depower an electromagnet? I can’t see an off switch – the repulsors are voice-activated so they don’t need one.”

“Did you try asking your shoes to unfasten?”

Clint blinked at Coulson, then looked down at the shoes. “Um. Shoes. Unfasten, please?”

They remained stubbornly fastened.

“You know, this is probably Stark’s idea of a joke. Stick Hawkeye in flying shoes that he can’t take off until he learns to fucking fly. He probably laughed as he created the goddamn sneakers from hell.”

“Language.” Steve admonished quietly.

“I should inform you that Helheim has no such shoes, although my niece Hel can indeed fly.” Thor’s voice was booming, and Coulson was half-tempted to ask him to continue the story as a distraction.

“The most logical thing to do would be to go down to the labs and ask Tony himself how to get them off.”

Clint sighed. “Admitting defeat.”

Coulson just kept his eyes calmly trained on him.

“Alright, alright, I’m going. Debrief tomorrow?”

“Eight o’clock. I expect you to be on time.”

Clint just laughed as he wandered out of the room.

Coulson gave it five seconds before allowing himself to collapse on the sofa and put him head in his hands. Steve and Thor had the good grace to turn away.

 

/

 

It was ten thirty that night before Coulson heard his bedroom door slide open.

“Did you manage to get them off?”

Fabric rustled. “Apparently they need a machine to take off, just like Stark’s suits. He said he’d look into giving me a portable one. Fucker. I think it amused him.”

“Really, it’s your fault for wearing a pair of untested flying sneakers into the field.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can put up that rules and regulations attitude with everyone else if it helps you sleep at night. I know better.”

The bed dipped as Clint sat down on it, and Coulson felt the duvet move as he slipped under. Slowly, he turned towards Clint, placing a hand on the warmth of his bare side.

“It was reckless.” Coulson placed a kiss on Clint’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to get badly hurt.”

“I won’t.” Clint leant forward in the dark to place a kiss on Coulson’s lips. “I trust my team, Phil.”

“I know.” It said something about how proud Coulson was of that achievement that he didn’t press the point.

“We should tell them, really. About us. I mean, Natasha knows, and I think Bruce suspects – she probably drops hints to him. They won’t care.”

“Not yet.” Phil pressed one last, lingering kiss to Clint’s lips. “Goodnight, Clint.”

“Night.”

The night was calm and quiet, but it was a long time before Coulson slept.


End file.
